


The Quiet

by Omi_Smith



Series: Pwnyta's Peeps [11]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: AU — Pwnyta, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omi_Smith/pseuds/Omi_Smith
Summary: A series of short stories that will be exploring what-ifs and common plot devices.  These are not considered part of the rest of the Pwnyta's Peeps series, giving me the liberty of not worrying about how in-character they are (i.e. expect some characters to be out-of-character at times).
Relationships: Boat Denvers | Fearow & Team RED, Emanuel Costa | Raticate & Team RED, Esi “Sickle” Brant | Scyther & Team RED, Lee Ardal | Hitmonlee & Team RED, Lieutenant Sparky Driscoll | Raichu & Team RED, Zippo Saraf | Charizard & Team RED
Series: Pwnyta's Peeps [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459720





	1. Turtles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pwnyta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pwnyta).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What-if: Team RED, at some point, happens to come across a beach and get to witness the hatching of sea turtles. They stick around to watch the babies bumble their way into the surf. They also make sure to correct the ones that mistake the nearby city lights for the surf and sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: 2016. No beta.
> 
> Mostly a bit of exploration of the dynamic between the "parents" of the group, Lee and Sickle. Sickle is out-of-character here.

Sickle gently nudges another newly-hatched turtle back over and towards the ocean. Standing with a sigh, he catches Lee watching him with soft eyes and an easy smile. Sickle quirks a brow. 

“You’re very good at this,” Lee’s low voice wasn’t quite a whisper. Sickle looks back at the hatchlings, stumbling and pulling themselves into the ocean to be swept away at the mercy of the currents. Slowly, he side-eyes the rest of the team.

Emanuel takes notes, purely observing a nest not too far from their own. Further along, Sparky and Boat cheer for the turtles as they blunder down a make-shift race track with high sand walls. Zippo, pants rolled up and the light of his tail concealed to the best of his abilities, stands shin-deep in the surf, watching as the turtles are swept up. 

A quirk at the edge of his mouth nudges it into a slight, barely-there smile. His eyes shift back to Lee. “I’ve a bit of experience.” He crouches to turn yet another baby around, to face the water. Without looking away from the mass of reptiles, he slyly comments, “You seem to have a knack for this as well.”

Lee chuckles, “I suppose I just might have a bit of experience myself, in these matters.” He ushers yet another turned-around hatchling back into a safe and correct direction to the ocean.


	2. Age Regression — Zippo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if: During their journey to becoming Kanto's champions, team RED ends up in a strange predicament. Their leader, Zippo, has somehow become a child Charmander once more and has hidden himself just out of reach from the rest of the team. The team's chief of security, Sickle, muses over the predicament as the others try to get Zippo to come out before taking charge of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: 2016. No beta.
> 
> Sickle is a bit out-of-character, especially for the point of time I stuck him in, but it could be argued that he might behave this way if certain variables aligned just right.

"HAH! _And you all thought I was fibbing!"_ Sparky gloats, standing triumphantly in front of a crevice that stretches deep into the cliff face.

"Is that _really_ an appropriate response?" Emanuel growls back.

"Shh, it's safe, little one," Lee coos, kneeling at the mouth of the opening. A quiet whimper answers him, but there is no movement from within the hole. It was small and tight. Too small for an adult to fit and too deep reach far enough into.

Perfect for a child to hide in. Especially if it is from adults.

"How did this happen?” Sickle's eyes gleam sharply, angrily, and searching for a target to blame. A target to force into fixing this.

"I don't know! Like I said, we split up to save time! I went to fetch the water; he went to fetch the wood! He didn't show back up when he was supposed to, so I went searching. _Lo and behold_ , I see light flickering from this hole and there he is. _A Charmander_. Somehow…" Sparky rubs his forehead, a headache beginning to form. "I couldn't get him out right away, so I ran back to you all."

Lee frowns, looking up at the rest of the team. They stand a few yards away, attempting to give Zippo — at least they _assume_ it is Zippo — some space to become comfortable enough with at least _one_ of them to come out. Sparky has no doubt the Charmander is their teammate. Either that or he has a kid that's the spitting image of him. Nonetheless, they had to get the child out of the hole without it collapsing on him. " _If_ it is Zippo, he doesn't remember us," he pauses, looking at the Raichu, " _Any_ of us. Otherwise, he would have come out by now."

"At least he has enough sense to defend himself against strangers," Sickle remarks, scanning the forest for answers. "That's more than I can say for some Pokémon I know.”

Lee sighs, “Come on, Sickle, you are the only one who hasn’t tried.” Lee stands slowly, backing away from the entrance and attempting to not startle the Charmander.

“I doubt he would come out just because I ask him to, Lee. I don’t inspire confidence in _children,_ ” Sickle stands rigid at the fringe of their group, wary of the Route. Unbeknownst to the others, they were being tracked by one of the larger mob factions. They couldn’t afford this kind of delay.

They couldn’t afford to risk leaving the child either, _assuming_ it was _actually_ Zippo. He doubts the others would leave the child even if it weren't. Even _he_ can feel the slightest hint of unease at abandoning them, though only due to the connection to Zippo, flimsy as it is. Because it _could_ have been Zippo, at some point in the past. Sickle knows little about his teammates’ childhoods; only the generic, dry facts given to him by his ex-employer and what little anecdotes they've shared over a campfire. He only hopes, had anything similar happen to them in the past, that trustworthy and good-hearted people helped them.

The wrath sits like acid in his gut when he thinks about the alternatives to such situations.

With an abrupt twist, he strides toward the hole, heedless of Lee’s encouraging smile. He abandons all concessions typically given to dignity, laying full on his stomach and peering into the hole. It was hard to see; he can't adapt his eyesight to the darkness while looking straight at the only light source in there. But, without a doubt, a small Charmander lays tight against walls of earth, dirty and scraped up a few yards in, staring wide-eyed back at him. Sickle adjusts his eyes as best he can and feels uneasy, recognizing several of the child’s features as Zippo’s — aside from the obvious. Has something truly reverted Zippo back into a child? How is he expected to fix something like _this?_ He ponders on what he could offer that would bribe this kid into coming out but cannot think of anything that the others haven’t tried. Cooing. Bribing. Pleading. Cajoling. There isn’t much left to try. . . . _Well_ , Zippo always did appreciate frank honesty . . .

“Hello, my name is Esi Brant. But you can call me Sickle,” the Scyther inclines his head, signaling the Charmander’s turn.

The Charmander’s lower lip wobbles as he sniffs and wetly blinks. Miraculously, he responds, voice cracking with whines and sobs against the child’s will, “H-hello Mr. S-sickle. M-my name’s Zippo . . .” the child — Zippo — silences himself, giving in to his fear to press his face against an arm and cry for a stretch of minutes. He regains himself, though, and looks miserably at the Scyther. The kid was telling the truth.

He isn’t quite sure whether to be happy that Zippo _wasn’t_ in fact being killed or tortured while they were held up by a kid or to be angry said kid _was_ in fact, somehow, Zippo. He ruthlessly cuts both emotions off before they influence him. The situation is already too delicate without such things hindering him. “Hello, Zippo. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” _manners_ , Sickle thinks. Zippo’s always had good manners. It was probably taught to him since he was a babe. He should respond to any prompting for good manners. It’s probably one of the only things the kid is certain about right now. “May I ask why you are in a hole?”

He swallows his frustration as Zippo flinches, curling tighter onto himself and sobbing when the earth around him didn’t yield to his squirming. “A-a-a mon-ster,” he hiccups, pressing his face into the back of a hand as it clutches at the ground. He sobs harder, face reddening, as he begs, “Please! _I don’ wanna be buried!_ I want my _momma_ and my d- _dahda!”_

Zippo’s cries grate against and fracture something deep within him. Sickle doesn’t understand what it is, but he knows it is making him very angry. Not at Zippo, Sickle manages to sort out, but at the fact he’s crying.

He never wants to hear any of his teammates cry again.

"Zippo! **ZIPPO**!” Sickle manages to pull the child’s attention back onto him. Sickle tries to pierce all the blind terror clouding Zippo’s mind, eyes gleaming with fierce, vengeful determination. Sickle waits for Zippo to quieten a little more before he continues, voice low and raw with his conviction, “I swear never to let anything hurt you.” He pauses a moment, reaffirming the pledge with himself and felt that it was right. “I swear.”

Zippo swallows thickly, blinking more tears out of his eyes and hiccupping. Hesitantly, he edges toward Sickle. Inch by inch, Sickle watches quietly, meeting Zippo’s eyes with his own whenever the child searched for him. When Zippo finally came within the reach of his arms, Sickle shifted to shove his shoulder into the hole, fingers catching and gripping Zippo’s shirt tightly. He holds himself a moment there until he feels Zippo clutching his arm with both hands in return. Sickle drags him out slowly, as gentle as he can, sitting upright as he pulls Zippo into the sunlight.

Zippo’s sobs return with a vengeance. He latches onto Sickle, burrowing his face into his chest. They both ignore the relief and laughter of their team, too far into their moment to have enough mind to spare. Zippo, caught in a torrent of uncertainty and lingering terror, feeling decidedly lost and mostly alone; Sickle, doing his best to be the child’s support, hoping he was doing _something_ right by him.


End file.
